One Last Mission
by AmeliaDarkholme
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy adores his father and it ruins his life when Draco died. Convinced that his father left a message before his death, Scorpius tries his best to solve it. What is the message Draco left for him?


**Author's Notes:** I don't know what I wrote. I was so bored and the idea just popped in my mind when I saw my sister working on a book of riddles. And yea, it's sorta inspired by that insightful movie _Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close._ So, if there's something you don't understand, feel free to ask me. Happy reading!

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**CHARACTERS:**  
Scorpius Malfoy : Samuel Joslin  
Mute Man : Ian McKellen  
Draco Malfoy : Jude Law  
Hermione Granger : Winona Ryder  
Narcissa Malfoy : Meryl Streep

**DISCLAIMER: **I own nothing.

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My name is Scorpius Malfoy and I'm twelve. My father is the late Draco Malfoy, and my mother is Hermione Malfoy nee Granger. I lost my father two years ago during a a magical marathon event held in the country-side. I love running, I always do. So my dad took me to marathon event, running throughout the whole thing with me from the beginning. We were only a few metres from the finish line when it happened. Dad and I had a race of our own, and from how I remembered it, Dad was winning. I remembered he was yelling to catch him when the ground beneath us just exploded. I went flying a few metres off the ground, and in my utmost despair, I managed to cast myself in a strong Protection Charm wandlessly. I survived the bombing with serious injuries that would have paralysed me for life if my mother wasn't a Healer. But other people, my dad included? They weren't so lucky.

The day that was supposed to be one of the happiest day of my life ended up to be the worst day ever.

All of you must be wondering what's the point of me writing this letter. I'll tell you why, don't worry. I was born with the insane ability to be curious about every single thing there is to know in this life. I grew up trying to understand my life and my surrounding. I taught myself to always be prepared. But nothing prepared me with the fact that I've to lost my Dad when I was so young. I need to understand why my Dad was taken away from me. Why me? Why not someone else's Dad? I know that my dad did a lot of horrible things in his youth, but hadn't he done a lot of good deeds to make up for it?

A few months after his death was pure agony for me and my mother. I was always closer with Dad, and I had no idea what I should do ease Mum's pain. So, like the brave coward I was, I ignored her. I tried my best to avoid her at any cost, only talking to her when it was necessary and pretended that I was asleep every time she came home late at night. I spent most of my time in this Muggle cafe near our flat, ordering sandwich and chocolate milk every time I came. All the while I was there, I would try to solve the book of riddles Dad made before his death, hoping that by doing so, I would find a message Dad left for me, something to make his death less painful. I would wreck my brain for hours, trying to find the answers to Dad's riddles. My Dad loved riddles just as much as I love running.

That was when I met that mute old man with his silver cane and dark suit. He just came out of nowhere and took a seat beside me, writing down the answer to Dad's riddles with his own pen on the napkin beside me. I asked him what was his name warily, suspicious because my parents always told me to be careful of strangers. Instead of answering me, he grabbed my book and solved another one of Dad's riddles. I'd keep asking him questions about himself, and he would just answer the riddles. It took me two months to finally ask him another question.

"Will you accompany me to the mall? I need to buy a new pen," was my question to the mute man. Giving me a small smile, he nodded his head and let me to lead him to the mall.

We took the Tube because I knew he wouldn't be able to walk all the way to the mall, what with his rather inability to walk properly. I talked about a lot of things while he listened closely to whatever I said. I told him that I lost my father in the Boston bombings, I told him that my mother was one of the most brilliant human being I ever knew, I told him how my parents met, I told him what me and my Dad often did during the week ends. I did ask him though, whether he was mute since born or because of a traumatic event. I didn't mean to be rude but I was just curious. He was nice enough to not feel offended by question. He wrote in his little book that he became mute around a decade ago because of something horrible that happened to him. I asked him whether he had anyone to call a family, and sadly he shook his head. We didn't talk anymore for the rest of our journey to the mall and back again to the cafe. But, for some reason, I felt like I could learn to trust this weird man – and that was saying something, seeing that I have issues when it comes to trusting people.

For the whole year since Dad's death, I spent nearly all of my days with the mute man. He helped me solved Dad's riddles, I would tell him everything about me. He would buy me ice cream whenever I ran out of my chocolate-milk, and I would walk him back to his flat, which was actually just across mine. I enjoyed the time I spent with him, regardless of the fact that I didn't even know a thing about him, not even his name. I would come to the cafe at exactly ten o'clock in the morning, after Mum went out to work, and I'd find the mute man already sitting on our usual seat, reading on a book he still wouldn't tell me the title. Then, we'd spend nearly the whole day solving the riddles or me-talking-slash-him-listening to my stories. I was determined to solve all the riddles, convinced that Dad might be leaving a clue to me. Everything was going to well until one day, after he finished one of the last few riddles left, the mute guy froze upon writing down the answer. He looked shocked, scared even.

"What's wrong, sir?" I asked him. Instead of answering me, for the first time ever, he just left me. I called after him, running after him to his flat. When I demanded answers, he wrote something on his book, ripped the paper and shoved it into my hand.

_Stop meeting me again. Leave me alone. I'm not a good person, _that was what he wrote.

The next day, I came to his flat instead of our cafe. I knocked on his door, but I got no reply. He didn't open the door for me. So, I decided to wait in our cafe, hoping that he would come. I'd wait for hours but he wouldn't show up. Thirteen days after his abrupt leave, I came again to his flat. I was surprised to find my grandma, Nana Cissy, standing in front of door to his flat, inspecting the empty room behold upon her. I dared not to ask her what was she doing there, but I could tell that she knew the mute man. From the looks of things, the man had left in an absolute haste, judging from how some of the furnitures were toppled over, scattering all over the room. Suddenly, I felt like the air in my lungs had abandoned me. I felt like the walls around me were coming closer, suffocating me. I was scared and I didn't know what I should. Before I realised what I was doing, I ran out of the building as fast as I could to the cafe where I'd been spending nearly the whole year with the mute man my friend.

_My only friend._

He had left me alone, just like my Dad did.

They both left me, when I needed them the most.

They left when there was still so much for me to understand.

By the time I reached the cafe, I wasn't expecting to find anyone I knew there. I was hoping that I could just sit alone on my usual spot, ordering my favourite sandwich and my chocolate-milk. I was caught off guard when I found _my mother _sitting on the seat that the mute man usually occupied. In her hand, she was holding Dad's book of riddles, reading it with rapt attention as tears fell profusely down her fair face. Timidly, I came to her side and beside her. She lifted her eyes off the book when she felt me sitting down on the seat next to her, and she gave me a smile as she reached for my hand, holding it in a firm and comforting grip. I realised that I'd never really appreciated my Mum, and that was when I realised how _amazing _she was. That was when I realised that she was just great as my Dad. All this time, all I could ever think of was Dad. I didn't think that I was never completely alone, that I still had my Mum with me. Feeling a wave of tears forcing their way out, I moved closer toward her so I could lay my head on my petite yet strong Mum. I didn't want to lose her like I lost Dad and the mute man and I needed to tell her just how _important _she was to me before she too left me alone.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling her hand stroking my hair. "I know I don't really say it much, but I love you, Mum. You matter to me just as much as Dad was. Please, don't leave me."

"Honey, what are you talking about?" she said, cupping my face in her hands. "I am never leaving you, Scorpius. What happened, love? Tell me."

Then the dam broke. I told her how I was mad to the whole world for taking my Dad from me. I told her how I tried to solve all Dad's riddles in hopes that there would be a message he left for me, something to ease the pain in me that constantly squeezing my heard in a dead grip. I told her how I befriended this mute guy and how he left me after he solved one of the last riddles Dad made. Mum listened to everything I said, nodding her head every once in awhile. It took me awhile to realise that the book of riddles Mum was holding hadn't been in my possession since the day the mute man left me. He took the book with him when he left, and never once I realised he did that until that day. Curious as to how Mum was able to have the book when it was supposed to be with the mute man, I asked her. Giving me one of her calming smiles that she used to give Dad when he would come home from work in frustration, she pushed the book into my hands.

"I think you better read the last message your Dad left you, Scorp. You're right; he _did _leave you a message before he died. And now it's time for you to read it."

And I did. I read Dad's last message that was actually combinations of all the answers to all his riddles.

With heart beating as fast as a race car, I flipped the book to its last page and began to read.

_Congratulations, Scorpius! You have finally solved my riddles. I know you would, son, because you're just as brilliant as your mother. With this last message, I would like to tell you just how much I love you and how much I'm proud of you. You know of my dark past and I won't blame you if you're ashamed of me. But I hope you will learn from my mistakes and be a better man than I can ever be. Can you promise me to be always be the best man around, and to protect your mother with all your might? Can I trust you to look after my girl, son?_

_Words cannot explain how proud I am of you. Riddles aren't easy to solve, and yet you manage to solve it just as easily as your mother would have done. Now, I have one last mission for you to do, son. If, by any chance, you ever meet a mute man with cropped grey-hair and grey-eyes, will you be his friend? His name is Lucius and he is my father. I will appreciate it if you give him the love you give me and your mother. Thank you very much, Scorp. I love you and I'm proud of you._

_Dad_

Looking up from the book, I found Mum had already looked at me, still smiling. I knew the look in her eyes, the one Dad always talked about when Mum was in her mood to have an adventure. Dumping the book of riddles in my bag, I took Mum's hand and said, "Mum?"

"Yes, love?"

"Will you go on an adventure with me? Will you help me find my Granddad?"

The first smile since her husband's death made an appearance on Mum's face, making her look years younger than her actual age. Pulling me and herself off her seat, she winked at me and said,

"Let's go."


End file.
